


Before the Storm

by ChokolatteJedi



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst and Humor, Boarding School, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pre-Canon, Pre-Crisis, Relationship(s), Teen Angst, Yuletide, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horatio works on his homework while Hamlet tries to distract him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sencha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sencha/gifts).



"So, what are you writing?" Hamlet asked as he flopped down onto the couch.

Ignoring the jostling he was getting, Horatio continued to consult his papers, absently chewing on the end of his quill. "I'm working on my final paper," he explained.

"Ugh!" Hamlet groaned. "Just write a bunch of nonsense and hand that in. You know Old Man Falstaff won't even be able to read it anyway, with his failing eyesight."

"Hmm," Horatio allowed, "maybe, but I'd still like to finish it." While it was true that their teacher of histories was blind as a bat, Horatio had always maintained that the point of the assignment was that he do the work, not that his teacher read it.

"Humph." Hamlet bounced on the couch again. "But it's almost winter break. Think of the wenches gathered around fires down at the pub!"

"You shouldn't be thinking of wenches at all," Horatio replied mildly, "unless you've stopped answering the letters of the fair Ophelia." Not that Hamlet would ever actually take a wench up on her offer, but he still enjoyed practicing his flirting on them. And usually Horatio went along and laughed at him as he tried to extricate himself from an actual bedding.

Hamlet sighed. "You know I haven't. It's just... I don't know."

"You're torn," Horatio supplied, not feeling like elaborating further.

"Yes! I mean, Ophelia and I, we were kids together! I've known her my whole life! Everyone's just always assumed we would- and I guess I did too! I never really thought about it back then! But now... and with…" Hamlet drifted off into silence, but Horatio knew what remained unsaid. A moment later, the prince ran his fingers through Horatio's hair in a gentle caress.

Horatio allowed himself to relax into the familiar touch for a moment before looking back down at his papers. Clearing his throat, he managed "I know. You are a prince."

"And a prince must have an heir," Hamlet finished with a groan. "Argh! Why does my life have to be so complicated? Why can't I just carouse and tumble wenches and enjoy myself like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern?"

"Because you are a prince, and not a half-wit bastard." Horatio offered the well-rehearsed reply. "And you are hopefully smart enough to know what kind of trouble you could get in with those wenches. And because you have honor and chivalry and all of those inconvenient virtues that mean you must actually strive to do your best at all times." Of course, those were many of the things that Horatio loved about his lord, along with his lightning wit and wicked humor, but Hamlet often found them problematic, as he was compelled to do what was honorable, rather than what was fun or easy.

There was a long pause, and Horatio wondered if he was about to be hit over the head with one of the couch's decorative pillows. However, after a long moment he simply sighed deeply. "Yes, all of those things."

After a few minutes of depressive silence in which Horatio found it hard to concentrate on his histories paper, he finally asked. "So, no new letters from Ophelia?"

"No," Hamlet grumbled. "But I did mention that it was a busy time in our studies, and that I should be heading home for break soon, so she might just be waiting until we can talk in person.

"Mmm, yes," Horatio hummed, reaching for a reference book. "Or perhaps her brother Laertes has finally convinced her to stop communicating with you."

"Hah!" Hamlet scoffed. "If ever a carouser there was! I doubt there's a wench in Denmark he hasn't propositioned!"

"Be that as it may, Old Man Polonius still sees him as a fine heir, and you know Ophelia dotes on him." Feeling snarky, Horatio added, "you know, he could be your brother-in-law one day."

Hamlet groaned. "I may just challenge him to a duel and be rid of him."

"Ophelia would kill you if you killed her brother," Horatio pointed out calmly.

Hamlet chuckled, "do you think she would, really?"

Horatio considered this for a moment before nodding sharply. "Yes, I do. She has that family fiery streak in her, even if it is usually covered by courtly manners. She's not afraid to fight for what she wants."

It went unspoken, as always, that what she wanted was Hamlet, and that Horatio wanted him too. Hamlet had a duty to his country, and Horatio was not prepared to thrust his homeland into a civil war simply to satisfy his own desires.

Hamlet bounced on the couch again, propping his feet up on the arm. "Well, not a duel, then. I could dunk him in the river maybe, in the middle of winter? I'm sure a head cold would make him most agreeable for a time."

"I'm sure it would," Horatio muttered. Many was the time Rosencrantz or Guildenstern had made a similar comment about their irrepressible lord.

"Do you think she'd kill me for that?" Hamlet asked.

Horatio considered this again, before shaking his head. "Probably not, though you wouldn't be welcome into her chambers for a good while, I'm sure."

Hamlet frowned at that prospect. "Fate worse than death, that."

Horatio smirked, "I'm sure."

Before Hamlet could come up with a sharp retort, there was a knock at their chamber door. "Who would knock?" Horatio mused, turning to watch as Hamlet bounced up to answer. Most of their friends would have simply waltzed in, never mind the courtesies of knocking. While Hamlet was a prince, he had never stood on much ceremony, or insisted on the bowing and scraping that most royals did.

Their guest was a courier, however, who said, "I have a message for Lord Hamlet?"

"I am he," Hamlet replied, holding out his hand.

The man handed over the letter and then quickly left. Turning back to the last of his work, Horatio asked, "from thy father?"

"Mhm, my dear mother," Hamlet shook his head. "That's odd."

"She couldn't wait until you traveled home in a fortnight?" Horatio asked.

He heard Hamlet thump down onto the couch again, but he didn't look up from his research until he heard a muffled moan a few moments later. "What? What is it?"

Hamlet looked up at him with desperate, haunted eyes. "My noble father is dead!"


End file.
